


Impression

by mieraspeller



Series: Dragonrider Girl [3]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Dragon Impression, Female Dragonriders, Female Friendships, Gen, Psychic Bonds, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mieraspeller/pseuds/mieraspeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reluctant girl impresses a dragon in a post-Thread Pern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. If there are any tags you feel I should include, please let me know!

**2581 AAT**

 

The queen dragon glared at them balefully.

Cam - Camila, formally - shifted nervously from foot to slightly singed foot. The traditional hot sands, while wonderful for dragon eggs, did nothing for humans wearing the equally traditional white shift and thin leather sandals. The other candidates didn't seem bothered, though they, presumably, wanted to be there. Most kids on Pern had dreamed of being a dragonrider at some point or another.

Now, though, dragons seemed a bit useless without thread… though even in this Turn, not everyone believed thread was really gone. Her own grandmother had her doubts about it, and she was perfectly happy using the recovered tech on their Hold. She didn’t necessarily doubt AIVAS’ word, but she was the type that liked to see things for herself. And she was set on her granddaughter being the next holder of High Hills Hold, not a dragonrider! If that blue rider hadn’t agreed to take her sister, who begged to be able to see a Hatching, she might be back at the Harper Hall, or at home, trying periodically to convince her grandmother to allow her to become a real apprentice harper and not a cottage student. Menolly herself had said she showed great skill on the stringed instruments, and her grandmother was in excellent health. It would be Turns before she was needed to run anything. 

Not that that made a difference. Her parents had still been alive when she had last been Searched, five Turns back, and complained to the Weyrleader for nearly an hour. If they had been around when the dragons came back, her father would have thrown a fit. They were probably glaring at her from the afterlife now.

One could maybe be a harper and a Holder. But no one save the late Lord Jaxom - an exception for many things - was a holder and a dragonrider.

It didn’t seem that she had a choice, however. She glanced over her shoulder at one of the hulking bronze riders hovering in the entrance of the hatching grounds and sighed. Even though they were thirteen turns out of the Ninth Pass (supposedly the _last_ Pass), when there are eggs on the sands, there must be candidates to Impress. Dragons and dragonriders alike took these things seriously. 

The dragons' peculiar humming noises were getting louder. Everyone else on the sand looked excited or terrified, or somewhere in between. And somewhere in the stands her sister Brielle was sitting with that blue rider who had promised to watch her, just excited to see the dragons. Ah, to be young again.

 _It is a great honor, to be chosen,_ said a disgruntled voice in her head. It was more resonant than the dragon that had picked them up from the court at the Harper Hall.

_I know,_

> _Oh, we must give honor to those dragons heed_  
>  _In thought and in favor, in word and in deed_  
>  _For our world will be lost or our world will be saved_  
>  _From those dangers that are by the dragons braved._ *

She hummed the chorus. _Honor, certainly. But that doesn’t mean that it is an honor everyone is fit for._

_You will see._

Cam was tempted to roll her eyes, but wasn't sure how forgiving a dragon would be to indecorum. She wasn't sure which of the dragons had decided that she merely needed to be convinced that she was to be a dragonrider. Dragons were nosy, and required a lot of time and attention, which she didn't have to spare while watching after a sister of only eleven turns, learning at the Harper Hall, and getting lessons from her grandmother on running a hold! Just because she had a bit of a talent for empathy, and apparently latent telepathic ability, didn't automatically mean she would be a good fit. She hadn’t impressed last time, and this time wouldn’t be any different. 

_Only the dragon chooses. The rider’s past does not matter._

Cam hissed internally. She had beaten back her childish wish of being a dragonrider turns ago, and she wouldn't allow some overgrown runnerbeast with wings to cloud her mind.

 _Runnerbeast?!_ came an affronted protest, and Cam flushed a bit. Perhaps that had been taking it a bit too far. But one was always bound to hear insults when one eavesdropped.

From the stands, someone let out a wheezing cough, before the noise was engulfed by the humming increasing several more decibels. Three of the dragons perched around the grounds took flight to the consternation of a few screeching hold folk in the audience.

Cam turned her attention back to the eggs, which were quivering alarmingly. Along with most of the humans in the room. She rocked back on her heels and then had to hold steady as several over exuberant candidates shoved around her to get closer to the eggs. 

Nothing of interest was happening yet, so Cam went back to eyeing the exit surreptitiously. Brielle was going to find life at the hold a hard roll to eat after this, Cam thought, and grimaced at the thought. Her sister was headstrong on the best of days.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Brielle appeared at the edge of the sands, flanked by two harried looking young dragonriders, and serves them right anyways! She was bouncing eagerly as the dragons’ humming increasing.

Before she had a chance to wave at her wide eyed sister, one of the girls beside her clutched at her arm, and then there was a chorus of _oohs_ and a _ahs_ and the rather indescribable sound of a dragon breaking through their shell. 

Cam managed to pry the girl's hand from her arm and gave her a gentle mental shove towards the unwieldy green hatchling. Almost at once the dragon oriented on the petrified girl. 

There was a tense moment when the girl clearly thought she was about to maimed, like many a candidate in the past, but then her face lit up with joy. 

"Her name is Kalanth!" She cried, and then it seemed all the eggs were hatching.

Cam stayed as far back as she could and still be on the sands, and ignored the disbelief and disgust she could feel projecting from some of the stronger empaths (probably dragonriders) in the crowd at what they probably perceived as cowardice.

It didn't matter, because as soon as this was over, she was taking Brielle and going. Even if she had to _walk_ back to the Harper Hall. Her grandmother would be so relieved she didn’t Impress, she would surely be happier with a Harper trained granddaughter then a dragonrider. 

She couldn't help a small smile, though, at the overwhelming feelings of awe from the candidates who had impressed. There were still a few dragonets looking for a rider, but most of them had hatched and chosen.

The queen egg, the last to hatch, either due to the larger size of the hatchling, or out of an inborn sense of superiority and melodrama, was finally starting to rock and all the remaining girls gathered at a respectable distance. Their excitement was infectious and Cam took a few steps forward as well. 

"Come back here!" Someone hissed, and Cam glanced over her shoulder reflexively -- just in time to see Brielle stepping onto the sands and holding a hand out to a green dragon. Cam tensed to run to her sister, but the hatchling pressed her head to Brielle's outstretched hand affectionately.

"She called me!" Brielle protested. "Carith is her name, and she's very hungry. Look, Cam, I'm gonna be a dragonrider!" She yelled, and Cam smiled as genuinely as she was able as her baby sister was led out to the Weyr Bowl with the other new riders to feed her dragon.

She watched until Brielle was out of sight and tried not to project her misery. Maybe she could get a post here at Fort Weyr as a kitchen girl. If her grandmother didn’t drag her back the minute that the Hatching was over. That depressing thought was punctuated by the squawk of an angry newly hatched dragon, and Cam turned back in the interest of avoiding being mauled by a clumsy baby dragon on a mission. 

All the remaining candidates had cleared off the sand with only the gold egg left, and the girls were circled loosely around the wobbly dragon. Cam hadn’t paid much attention to the other hatching dragons, but if they looked like this, she wasn’t surprised three boys had been run off the sands at Benden’s last hatching. 

A sharp pinch of offense radiated from the dragonet in front of her, before it took a few awkward steps towards Cam. 

“Whoa, hey, now. No offense meant. I’m sure one of these nice ladies would be really --” her mouth snapped closed when the dragon broke effortlessly through her mental defenses. “Oh, shards.” 

_You are_ my _rider,_ the dragon said, and Cam took a helpless step forward to prop up the awkward little thing. On second look, she was quite beautiful, even if she hadn’t grown into herself. Smug pride radiated from the dragon, and Cam fell helplessly.

_I am Menoth._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd

At some point they were herded away from the Hatching Sands to a long dormitory, but Cam was so focused on Menoth she wouldn't have been able to find her way back if her life depended on it. Presently she was sat on a hard stone floor with a lapful of dragon.

“Now don’t let them split their skins! If you need more oil, come to me, the healer, or the Headwoman at once. Dragons grow like weeds, so you’ll have to do it every meal for the first several weeks.”

Cam listened dazedly as she and the other new weyrlings received their first instructions. She hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Brielle since the hatching, but a quick mental probe found her in the other weyrling barracks with her green, Carith. Menoth wasn’t paying the least attention, more worried about stuffing her face.

 _I am hungry!_ her dragon insisted. 

_I know, dear,_ Cam thought placatingly _._

“When you see their stomachs start bulging like that -- yes, you there, don't let your dragon stuff itself -- chew! -- you must stop them from eating. Most hatchlings gulp meat so fast they don’t know when they’re full.” 

Cam looked over Menoth anxiously as she gulped down another chunk of meat. 

“Here.” She looked up and a pot of oil was pressed to her. Menoth swung her head around in surprise at the sudden movement behind her, before falling on her haunches and giving the blue dragon across the way a disdainful look as his rider struggled to pull the bowl of meat away. 

“Thank you,” Cam said belatedly, but the woman was already on to the next weyrling pair. 

_I do not stuff myself like a silly wherry,_ Menoth thought proudly, and Cam grinned and stroked her eye ridges as Menoth preened. 

_No, you are much too smart for that._ She rubbed Menoth’s eye ridges affectionately, then opened the oil. 

_I itch._

_Just a moment, dearest,_ Cam promised, warming the oil between her palms before beginning to smooth it over Menoth’s golden hide. Menoth laid her head down on Cam’s thigh with a contented sigh.

When Cam was finished, Menoth was dozing and a pair came down the aisle, a woman carrying a bowl of water, followed by a boy - no, Cam realized, a young woman with shorn short hair in riding leathers, carrying a platter of rolls. She was about to protest her lack of hunger, when her stomach growled loudly.

The young woman holding the platter gave her a sunny smile. “Riders need to eat just as much as dragons.”

Cam rinsed off her hands quickly, wincing at the sting of alcohol on her chapped hands, and grabbed two rolls before they moved on to the next weyrling pair. She hummed The Duty Song between bites, and Menoth opened one eye lazily and made a noise of inquiry. 

_There’s at least one dragon here who will be more smug than you, that we paired,_ Cam tells her, humming as she projected the words to Menoth, 

> _We'll nurture our dragons, the queens rule their bands;_  
>  _Their clutches will shell on the Hatching Ground sands._  
>  _We'll Search out the riders who will love and endure_  
>  _With their dragonmates keeping our planet secure._ *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song borrowed from [ Music from Anne McCaffrey ](http://www.opland-freeman.com/harperhall/mhlyr.htm)


	3. Chapter 3

When Cam woke, Menoth was still asleep. She felt a wave of fondness for her dragon - fardles but it was strange to think of. And as much as she loved Menoth - had since they first met eyes, immediately and inexplicably, but irrevocably - she still felt a stab of disappointment at losing any chance of becoming a harper. 

Menoth stirred, and Cam started, shielding her mind. After all, it wasn’t her dragon’s fault and there was no reason to make her feel guilty about it. A moment later she settled, breathing out a huff that ruffled hotly against Cam’s side. Cam reached a hand out and stroked over Menoth’s jaw, before awkwardly maneuvering out from under her. The barracks were dimly lit by a half covered glow, but she could feel that the rest of the weyrlings were still asleep, and she crept down the aisle quietly and across the hall into the second barracks. There was another glow there, but Cam could feel her sister’s familiar whirling-happy-determined presence, even dimmed by sleep. She was curled up snugly around her dragon. Her mental presence, when Cam reached for it, was similarly wound with an echoing draconic _content-sated-belonging_. Cam watched over her baby sister for another long moment before creeping back to her own bedroll to wait for morning.


	4. Chapter 4

After the dragons were taken care of the weyrlings were lead into a cavernous dining hall where, amidst the general chaos, a long table was filled to bursting with platters of food. Cam stopped when she recognized her uncle standing stiffly along the far side, and someone bumped into her from behind.

“Come on, girl,” Rana called as she swept past, ushering the rest of the weyrlings to the table. “You’ll not see your family again for another Turn and a half, best make use of your time.” She ran off to herd a couple of kids away from bumping into some older folks - probably Holders, talking with a woman in Harper green that Cam didn’t recognize. She felt a pang of envy, before a sleepy nudge from Menoth distracted her. 

Most of the other weyrlings were embracing a relative or friend, or talking excitedly about their dragon. She felt the familiar presence of her sister coming, and reached out for Brielle’s hand without looking, feeling her sister send a small brush of _comfortreassurance_ at her as she clutched her hand. 

_You are sad,_ Menoth said, sounding confused.

 _Our uncle is here,_ she told her dragon, trying to give her a glimpse of the _reluctanceguilt_ she felt, without overwhelming her.

 _I love you,_ Menoth said, with the kind of certainty that Cam envied. Her voice echoed with Carith’s sentiments to Brielle. 

“Come on, let’s go talk to him,” Brielle said bracingly, striding forward and pulling Cam along in her wake. 

Cam tried not to wince at they got closer. She could feel the disapproval rolling of her uncle in waves, even if she didn’t see his crossed arms and stern expression. 

“Hello, Uncle Markal.”

“Lady Marbri and I are both disappointed in you,” he said bluntly. “She sent me to tell you this: as dragonriders you are no longer welcome at High Hills Hold. Your hold and history are forfeit.” 

“What?” Brielle exclaimed, clutching at Cam’s arm. Cam felt numb. She knew her grandmother would be unhappy, but she couldn’t believe that she would cut them from their family entirely. They were holdless.

 _What is happening? You are upset!_ Menoth bugled angrily and Cam just couldn’t find it in herself to reassure the dragon. She blocked her out momentarily, and straightened to face her uncle.

“I… I acknowledge my Lady Holder’s will,” she managed, unable to recall the rest of the antiquated ritual. It wasn’t something she had ever imagined she would need to know. 

“Witnessed,” another man that Cam didn’t recognize said. He was standing at her uncle’s shoulder. No longer her uncle. Markal nodded sharply and turned on his heel, striding toward the exit. The man followed on his heels.

“What does that mean?” Brielle asked sharply. “Are we _holdless?_ ”

Around them, visitors to the weyr were shifting uncomfortably, moving away from the girls like being without a hold might be contagious. Her lip drew up and she had to consciously school her expression back to neutral. Even a dozen turns past thread, and they were still afraid of it. She spotted a few dragonriders looking at them sympathetically, and Cam avoided their eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brielle said, voice strengthening as she straightened and glared around at their audience. “We’re dragonriders now.” 

“That’s the spirit,” a soft voice said, and Cam jumped. A small, plump woman with smooth brown skin that juxtaposed her white streaked black hair smiled at her and patted her arm. Still softly, but with a resonance a harper would envy, she said,

“You’re never holdless with a dragon.” 

Markal, almost to the exit, stumbled. Cam watched as his face darkened with embarrassment before he ducked into the hall, away from the now gossiping crowds.

In a much quieter voice, the woman turned to Cam and said, “Come see me after you eat. Herin or Rana can point you in the right direction.” 

Before Cam could gather her wits about her to respond, the woman had walked over to another group. But some sort of silent signal must have passed because another female dragonrider was ushering them over to the table and pointing out the best foods to try. Cam let herself be moved, overwhelmed by her uncle’s proclamation.

The next thing she was really present for, she was sat down at another table with a half eaten plate of food in front of her. Brielle was smiling at something their rescuer had said. 

“‘N’so I said - oh. Back with us?” the woman said, with a thick Keroonian accent.

 

“Petra is a _bronze rider,_ ” Brielle informed her gleefully, apparently already over being barred from their ancestral hold. Cam managed a brittle smile and a nod at the rider. 

“Mainly a ‘smith these days. But dragonriders stick together, yea?” she said. Not even the mountain folk around her home hold had accents that thick, Cam thought, mentally grimacing at what the girls back at Harper Hall would have done to anyone with an accent like that.

“Thank you,” Cam replied, once she’d translated. “I think I’m going to go back to Menoth, if that’s alright.” 

“You need a guide t’ find the Weyrwoman’s quarters, after?” Petra offered, and Cam frowned, then stared at the dragonrider in dawning horror. The woman who had just seen her cast from her hold was Fort Weyrwoman Jassa? Oh, _jays._


	5. Chapter 5

Despite her _abysmal_ first impression on the Weyrwoman, Cam managed to keep her calm - outwardly, at least - as Petra led her through labyrinthian corridors to Weyrwoman Jassa’s quarters. 

“’s easier by dragonback, mind,” Petra had said before they set off on their trek, but Cam didn’t see how arriving windblown and shaky would help her. Instead, she tried to gather a little information from her guide.

“Do all the new riders -”

“Weyrlings.” 

Cam rolled her eyes. “ _Weyrlings_ have private meetings with the Weyrwoman?”

“Jays, no! You’re a queen rider,” Petra said. When Cam just looked at her blankly, Petra laughed. “Oh, shards. All the other candidates’re Weyr-raised. Jassa‘s gonna have fun with you.”

Gritting her teeth, Cam ignored the mocking laughter and kept marching along the corridor. 

_What is wrong?_ Menoth sounded poised to attempt to fly to her rescue… which wouldn’t end well for anyone.

 _Just silly dragonriders,_ Cam told her, trying to block the hot rush of anger Petra’s words had stirred. 

“Just down there,” Petra said, interrupting her own rambling. She nodded at the door at the end of the hall. “Want me t’ come with?”

“I’ll be just fine, Bronze Rider.” Cam straightened her tunic and her shoulders and walked, wincing minutely at the sound of her boots echoing in the stone hall.

“Suit yourself!” Petra called. A moment later she could hear her retreating footsteps.

Cam squared her shoulders and knocked. She refused to be nervous. She’d gotten her wish, in a roundabout way: she was no longer going to run her family Hold. 

“Come in!” 

Pushing open the door softly, Cam glanced around until her eye caught on the weyrwoman sitting at a desk slightly off center to the door. A door led off the right to what looked like a bed chamber, and another to the left to a cavern large enough she couldn’t see the ceiling from this angle. 

“Weyrleaders must get some advantages, otherwise the stress would hardly be worth it,” Weyrwoman Jassa told her with a small smile. “Now sit and we’ll see what hold notions we need to educate you out of while we go over your duties.” 

“Oh,” Cam said, feeling oddly disappointed. Brand new and already a disappointment. It almost made her feel at home. 

“Dragons do not eat people. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that they are quite as intelligent as we humans. We don’t go at it like a green in heat, but we are certainly more lax on fraternization than most holds. Your dragon will rise to mate when she hits her full growth. For queens, that’s generally at the turn and half mark. If you’d prefer not to join her, let me know ahead so I can coordinate with Rema to get you locked away from a load of rutting bronze riders.” 

Cam gulped as the weyrwoman flipped over a paper in front of her, then continued. 

“At the moment Fort Weyr has no other junior queens, so you are in a somewhat tricky position in terms of hierarchy. The other junior queens have seniority over you in their own weyr, along with their weyrleaders, but here you would be senior to anyone but R’laden or me. And your healer if you should require one,” she added with a lightning quick grin. More seriously, she continued, “But you’re also a weyrling, so you’ll need to listen to your teachers, particularly Rema, Weyrlingmaster Herin and her assistant Rana, and the Weyr’s dragonhealer Mikel. If anyone else tries to tell you differently, come to me or Rema and we’ll set them straight. Bullies, unfortunately, exist even in the weyr.”

Cam’s eyes narrowed. “They can try me.” 

“As long as it doesn’t upset the dragons. Dragonriders do not get into fights,” Jassa warned her. “But you're a gold rider, junior or not, and I doubt your little queen will let it get to that point.”

“Yes, Weyrwoman Jassa.” Privately, Cam was quite sure the weyr had the usual jostling for position among the young, just like hall and hold. It seemed as long as the dragons didn’t get involved it was fair game. She jerked to attention when the weyrwoman cleared her throat meaningfully.

“You were a holder’s daughter. I’m sure you know a fair bit about breaking up petty squabbles, organizing large dinners, and working with the cook to keep enough food on the table for everyone?” 

“Of course,” Cam said, biting back the automatic indignation that the question brought. 

“Excellent, that’s more than most girls come to the job with.” Jassa leaned back and eyed her frankly. “You seem like you have a spine, which is the main thing. Everything else can be taught. We’ll have lessons for a candlemark everyday but Seventhday until I feel like you know enough to ease back.” She smiled briefly. “Now go back to your dragon. The well wishers will be gone soon and that’s when the real work begins.” 

Cam stood and backed out of the room somewhat uncertainly. The weight of her new responsibilities made her head throb, and she wished for nothing for than a cool cloth and a dose of fellis large enough to knock her out. 

_Are you hurt?_ Menoth asked, sounding put out. _Rajanth said to I was to leave you alone. I do not_ want _to._

 _Of course not,_ Cam managed not to laugh at the overprotective tone of her dragon. _The weyrwoman is helping me learn about my new responsibilities._

 _I think I will be strong enough to go flying soon,_ she said, a promise and warning, _if you do not like your responsibilities._

Cam couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. Just imagining their faces - ! She had to lean on the wall for support as she let loose a wild laughter. In the back of her mind, Menoth fluctuated between confused and pleased. It took some time before Cam was able to regain control over herself. Still holding back the occasional giggle, she made her way back to the weyrling quarters and collapsed on the pallet next to Menoth. 

“Thank you,” she told her dragon, impulsively hugging her around the neck. 

_You are welcome?_ Menoth said, sounding distinctively confused. _But what did I do?_

_Merely continue to be the best dragon on Pern._

If dragons could blush, Cam thought, stifling another giggle, Menoth would be bright red. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> * The Duty Song found in the canon. 
> 
> High Hill Hold is found on the mountain border of Fort Hold and Ruatha Hold.


End file.
